Angel
by who-will-you-slash
Summary: How do you tell an angel that you don't believe in God? [How do you tell Chase that you can't love him?] HCh SLASH First time fic, so please be gentle.


**Title:** Angel

**Author:** who-will-you-slash

**Rating:** T for some naughty smex references

**Summary:** How do you tell Chase that you can't love him?

**Disclaimer:** I do not own House, M.D. or any of its lovely characters and I am making absolutely _no_ money from this whatsoever.

**Warning:** This is slash, people, meaning a male/male relationship, so if that offends you DO NOT read this.

**A/N:** This fic is inspired by Blue October's _Angel. _I was listening to it a couple of days ago, and then at eleven thirty at night I was struck by a sudden desire to turn that one line into a fic. It's my first, so please, cut me some slack. I looooove feedback though, so if y'all will tell me how my first attempt was I will love you forever and ever and give you many cyber-cookies.

**A/N2: **I would like to thank my lovely beta, Annie, for editing this for me. Those darn commas just seem to slip right past me sometimes.

The end had really started at the beginning, House would admit to himself. He'd known what he was getting himself into, _knew _it was never going to last—but Chase's flushed cheeks and bright eyes and kiss-swollen lips had captured him, drawn him in until there was no logic or reason, only _feeling._ It had seemed fine at first—in fact, it had seemed more than fine. Chase didn't mind being secretive about their…whatever it was, he didn't annoy House with mindless idiot-talk, and he never, _ever_ presumed that he was anything more than House said he was. House said nothing, so that's how he acted, as if he was nothing. Plus, there was the mind-blowingly hot sex they had frequently and in a _lot_ of interesting places.

Then the odd feelings came.

It would just occur at any random moment; they would be sitting on the couch together watching _New Yankee Workshop_, or eating dinner, or sometimes even just lying in bed together, sated and exhausted after a round of passionate sex. Chase would look at him intently and smile as if he knew all the secrets of the universe, but was content to let his knowledge lay and just stay here with House, forever. And House's heart would do a strange sort of flutter or seize, which he attributed to the vicodin, or the heavy temperatures, or the bad pork.

But he couldn't carry on lying to himself forever, could he? But of course he could, because House is still only human, and everybody lies, after all, and House wanted Chase _so badly_. He wanted to keep on lying to himself so that he could look into Chase's sparkling blue-green eyes _just one more time,_ and stroke his golden hair, and smooth his own calloused hands over Chase's beautiful firm young body while telling himself that '_This is mine._'

Of course, all make-believe must come to an end as we begin to realize what we are doing, that we are only _playing pretend_. For House, his moment of realization came in the tiny foyer of his apartment, as they were both heading off to the grocery store, and then he was looking in to the mirror, with Chase behind him, his hand resting comfortably on House's shoulder, his lips moving—

And maybe he was asking House what he'd like for dinner, or perhaps if he'd lost his mind, because his eyebrows were raised and his eyes spoke a question and House was still staring intently into the mirror as if the power of his gaze could melt it and destroy the hideous truth that he was seeing on it's reflective surface.

He was in _too deep_.

The lies wouldn't come anymore and all he could think was that Chase was so young and beautiful and he himself was so old and marred and that he couldn't do this anymore. Couldn't convince himself that Chase was just a pretty face or a good lay; a nice piece of artwork, as he'd once told Cameron. And it was _scaring him_. So he pushed Chase's hand off his shoulder and said he didn't care what they had for dinner and how, oh, his leg suddenly hurt and that he should just go on to the store without him, and yes, of course he'd be fine. House limped dazedly over to the couch and lowered himself carefully onto it, as if any sudden movements would cause the universe to implode.

He would sit there for the next two hours, his head in his hands and that terrible, debilitating ache in his chest that hurt worse than any leg spasm ever could, and thinking that he _didn't know_ what to say to Chase when he got home because after all, how do you tell an angel that you don't believe in God?

**A/N:** If any of you are thinking, WTF, how could Chase spend two hours at a grocery store, believe me, it has happened many, _many_ times with my mom. It's possible.


End file.
